


This You Can Keep

by inalasahl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_reversebang, M/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inalasahl/pseuds/inalasahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is plagued with memories from hell and goes to see Death for a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This You Can Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Supernatural Reversebang challenge.](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com) Based on [this vid by caz2y5.](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html) Her art is amazing, and I was very lucky to get this prompt. I hope that I did it a small measure of justice.
> 
> xenoamorist is my hero for stepping in as beta at the last-minute when my original beta fell through. She gave me excellent suggestions, and I wish I'd had more time to fully implement them. I thank her from the bottom of my heart. Any remaining problems are entirely my own. Thanks also go to midnightheir for talking me through some story ideas.

[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)

The sound of Sam gasping for air woke Dean, as it had every night they'd been staying at this crappy place. Dean swore to himself that their next job was going to be somewhere further south. Somewhere where there wasn't snow on the ground, and it didn't matter if the heat worked or not. Sam couldn't take the cold anymore. He didn't talk about it, but it did something to him. Made the hallucinations and nightmares worse. Dean didn't know what he dreamed of. Dean didn't want to know. But whatever it was twisted Sam around so bad he couldn't breathe or thought he couldn't and would wake himself up, choking and clawing at his throat.

It wasn't too bad this time. The choking sounds stopped almost right away as Sam woke. "You all right?" Dean asked.

"Fine," Sam shortly. Dean heard him roll over on the bed. "Sorry," Sam said. He hated waking Dean, but there was no help for it. Dean wasn't as light a sleeper as he had sometimes wished when Sam had snuck out or someone, _something,_ had gotten the drop on them, but he wasn't a heavy sleeper either.

Dean opened his eyes and crawled out of bed. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Had to piss anyway." He walked into the bathroom and shut the door, rubbing a hand over his face and looking hard at himself in the mirror. Dean remembered being tortured himself, all that pain, but those weren't the memories that colored his own nightmares. Dean had been having more of those himself lately. He didn't think Sam had noticed, and it had been a long time since he had to worry about an angel watching him sleep. His nostrils filled with the scent of sulphur and the distant sound of screaming rang in his ears. He gripped the counter hard, reminding himself it was all in his head.

He wondered if Sam would notice if he snagged a bottle of liquor from his duffel on the way back to bed.  


[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)

  


They parked the car two blocks over before walking around to the back door of the house they'd picked out from the For Sale ad. They didn't have to jimmy the slider; the last people through hadn't remembered to lock it. Dean stepped into the house. Sam was staring a couple of feet in front of him, looking at nothing intently. "Sam," Dean hissed. His brother's head jerked over toward Dean and he pressed his thumb hard into his palm as he followed Dean into the house, closing the door behind him. Dean looked away, trying not to think about the cut on Sam's hand that should have healed by now. Would have healed by now, if only Cas hadn't — It was only his imagination that made him think he could smell the blood.

"I'm going to take a shower," Sam said. "Why don't you get a couple of hours of sleep? I can see about putting the laundry in when I get out."

"I'm going to check in with Bobby first. If the electricity's working, don't turn on any lights. Your eyes will adjust. We don't need the neighbors calling the cops."

Sam hesitated. "We don't have to stay here," he said. "We drove by plenty of boarded up places getting here."

"You smell like feet," Dean said. "We're not spending the night any place there isn't running water." That was the nice thing about houses that had prospective buyers trooping in and out. People kept the water on so the toilets would work. As soon as Sam nodded and went looking for the bathroom, Dean started looking around. If Sam could get even one warm night, Dean knew it would help. He found the thermostat, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he heard the furnace click on. It was too bad they couldn't stay a couple of days.

Calling Bobby meant calling Jody. Bobby was staying with her while he recuperated from his gun shot wound. "This is Sheriff Jody Mills."

"This is Bruce; have you heard anything from Steve lately?" Sheriff Mills laughed on the other end. Maybe the code names were silly, but if there were the slightest chance the leviathans had gotten into phone tapping, Dean didn't want any attention focused on Bobby. The leviathan would know about the code names if they resampled any of them again, but it at least might keep them in dark temporarily.

"He had quite a lot to say when that package you sent him arrived. Said you wrote down the wrong last name," she answered.

Dean's lips twitched as he pulled a couple of towels out of their duffels and a fresh change of clothes for the two of them. "What? He got a problem with war heroes who have hot girlfriends with lassoes and satin tights?"

"Something like that."

He raised his voice as he walked into the bathroom, leaving Sam a towel and the clothes. "Well, Dick isn't too happy either."

"At least use Robin," he heard Sam snap from the shower as he walked back out.

"I imagine not," Sheriff Mills said on the other end of the phone.

"So, what do you have for us?" Dean asked.

Her voice sobered instantly. "It's been storming down at the reservoir."

"What reservoir?" Dean asked. It didn't take looking at more than a couple of rooms to realize there wasn't much point in checking out the whole house. No furniture meant no beds. Just their luck that the bozos trying to sell this place had never heard of staging. "Wait. _The_ reservoir?"

"Yeah," she said. "Lightning, rain, snow. Steve wondered if you'd heard from Fergus lately. It sounds like the kind of thing he'd be interested in." It took Dean a moment to place the name Fergus. Crowley, Dean thought. She was telling him that Bobby thought the storms were demonic omens.

"Spoke to him a few weeks back, said we weren't going to see him for awhile. Thought he'd hang around the house. Should have known he was lying." Dean sat down on the floor across from the bathroom door and leaned back against the wall. He was so sick of this crap. He heard the water cut off. "Anything else?"

"Not right now. Take care of yourselves, all right?"

"You too." Dean smirked as Sam walked out of the bathroom. "Give my best to Steve," he said and hung up. He turned to Sam. "You were in there awhile," Dean said. "Did a leviathan came out of the faucet or were you just jerking off while you used up all the hot water?"

Sam grinned. "I might have left you a drop or two." He waved his hand at the phone. "What did Sheriff Mills have to say?"

"Demons are up to something at Bootbock. Better leave at first light." Dean stood up, frowning as his knee cracked. Hadn't even been three years since Castiel had healed him at Stull cemetery, and his joints were already becoming a mess again. For half a second, he felt a searing pain in his arm and smelled burnt flesh. He pulled his flask out and took a swig. "We aren't working," he said, answering Sam's look. "There aren't any beds, but try to get some sleep anyway. Lay down after you get the clothes in the washer. I'll take care of moving them to the dryer."

Dean went in to the bathroom to take his own shower. Sam had bedded down in the hallway outside the laundry room, as if he'd known Dean would want to keep an eye on him while he waited to move the clothes. Cas was dead. They'd almost lost Bobby. But until he found a way to screw it up, Dean still had Sam.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)   


  


The next morning, Dean and Sam stood on the opposite bank from where Cas had gone into the water. The reservoir spread out before them, deceptively serene. The sky overhead was clear, but there was still snow and ice on the ground and a chill in the air. Whatever the demons had been up to here was over. Dean could feel the crackle of lingering energy against his skin and the smell of blood and sulphur was back, though it should've been impossible to smell outside like this. His dreams were getting worse lately. He could see them during the day sometimes when he closed his eyes, could see something resembling a man being tortured, surrounded by millions.

His breath was visible in the air, and he glared at Sam's back, wishing his brother weren't so stubborn. Sam had refused to wear the scarf Dean had gotten him, saying he didn't like to have things wrapped around his throat and anyway it wasn't that cold.

There was a dredge dusted in snow, abandoned at the water's edge. Dean scraped away some of the snow, revealing symbols that had been painted on it. "That's Enochian," Sam said.

"Can you read it?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the dredge. He could feel Sam's stare at his back.

"Yeah," Sam said softly. Sam had always been good with languages, but he was better now than he'd been before he went into the cage. Maybe he remembered some of the things Lucifer had known. Dean wasn't going to ask.

"These ones are grace-binding, protection against angels. These other ones are —" He took a few steps back and scraped the ground snow away with his foot revealing scorch marks on the ground. He looked up. "I think—I think maybe they opened up a portal."

Dean kicked the dredge. "Damn. Is there any way to tell what they brought out?"

"It doesn't work that way. If I have these symbols right, they weren't bringing something out. They were trying to send something there."

"Why would demons be trying to open up a portal to hell? Can't they just go there?"

"Demons can."

Dean stared at the scorch marks on the ground. "What the hell could they have been sending down?"  


  


[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)

  


  


Once they went looking, it hadn't been that difficult at all to find a demon too stupid or too bold to keep his head down. For all the good it would do them, Dean was surprised the demons weren't smart enough to leave this plane and start fortifying hell against invasion. If Death was right, if the leviathans' end game really was eating everything in their path, they'd turn their attentions to hell soon enough. They'd withdrawn some. Crowley hadn't been lying about that. But not entirely. This one, this one had stayed. Moreover, this one had stayed in this same town, even after the Winchesters arrived. Dean wanted to know why. He looked down at the tray of instruments, considering. He'd always had a thing for tools.

Dean hadn't wanted Sam to stay for this, but Sam hadn't left. Dean wasn't going to suggest he was too delicate in front of an audience.

"Boy, this brings me back. Just like old times," the demon said. He grinned at Dean. "What? You don't recognize me? To be fair, I've gained some weight." He chuckled to himself. "Didn't have so much skin on last time you saw me." He turned toward Sam. "This guy here," he said, indicating Dean. "We go way back." The demon faked a giant heavy sigh. "I was on Dean's table once," he said. "Did he tell you about that? All the fun he used to have as Alastair's favorite …" He laughed again. "Pet? Let's go with that." The demon licked his lips, the closest thing he could come to obscene gesture while tied up. "You haven't been tortured until you've been tortured by Dean Winchester. Believe me. Although, he did talk too much. Never really liked that part."

Dean looked over at his brother. Sam was pressing down hard on his damn hand again. "Shut up," Dean barked, picking up a knife. No time to be choosy.

"That's not what you said the last time," the demon said. He looked back over at Sam. "No, Dean here, he loved to hear people talk, hear them beg, hear them scream. But most of all he liked getting into their heads. Especially us newbies who'd sold our souls to save others. Garnered himself quite a reputation for turning souls into demons faster than anyone else. Quite talented your brother. Any fool with an opposable thumb can carve that last little shred of humanity from a soul in time."

"I said shut up," Dean said. The demon gasped as the knife bit into him, blood oozing in its path, spilling down his skin in rivulets. "Tell us what you jerk-offs were up to here at the reservoir."

The demon ignored Dean and kept staring at Sam. "But I think it was the talking that did it as much as anything else when I got put on your brother's table. Do you know what he said to me?" The demon leaned forward into the knife with a little smile, as if he were sharing a secret. Too bad. There was no way the knife hadn't penetrated an organ. Dean had been hoping the meat suit would be alive after the demon was exorcised. "'Do you have any family?' he said. "'A lot of people they come in here, clinging to the thoughts of their loved ones. Whoever you're thinking about, brother, wife, daughter, son, doesn't matter. They don't care about you. They've forgotten all about you. I know. I had a brother once, and he left me here to rot. You remind me of him.' Then he smiled. The biggest smile I've ever seen in hell and said 'That's why I'm going to enjoy this so much.'" Dean sprayed holy water in his eyes, watched them smoke, pleased when the demon finally shut up. He glanced over at Sam.

Sam didn't say a word; his face didn't betray a hint of his thoughts. Dean was grateful for that. He turned back to the demon. "Now once again, what were you doing at the Bootbock reservoir?" As the demon started screaming, Dean started to whistle.  


  


[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)

  


  


After it was over, Dean washed up, thinking about what the demon had said. What could that sick bastard want with Cas's body? It took him a moment to realize Sam still hadn't moved. Hadn't even spoken. "Sam," Dean began. "About what he said in there—" Sam shook his head; Dean stopped talking.

His brother swallowed hard, but looked him straight in the eye. "Demons lie," Sam said finally. "Everyone knows that."

Dean bit back the urge to thank him.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
_"I've brought you something very special," Alastair hissed in Dean's ear, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean knew better by now than to pull away. He barely even felt the urge anymore. With his other hand, Alastair held a scalpel up with a satisfied smile. He tugged Dean around letting him see the gift, a floppy-haired man pulling wildly at his restraints. A pity. It was always less fun when they started out panicked. They broke so much easier, hardly any challenge at all. Still there was something about this one, something familiar. Dean knew Alastair was right. There was something very special about this one. Dean could almost put a name with the face. It started with an s maybe. He took the scalpel from Alastair's hand, smirking delightedly at Alastair as it turned into a knife, his favorite tool. Alastair's eyes rolled back into his head, already aroused. "I want to watch," he said. "I want to see you put on a good show for me." The gift was too scared for Dean to really show off his skills. No, that wasn't the kind of show Alastair wanted. But Dean knew how to make it good, regardless. He brought the knife down hard, enjoying the spurt of warm blood across his skin. The gift screamed. Dean pushed the knife in harder. He was going to shred every last sinew in the gift's body, atom by atom. And he was going to make sure the gift stayed aware enough to scream the whole time. Until nothing but his tongue was left._

_Alastair moaned behind him._

Dean woke and bolted out of bed. Sam was standing in the room. Sam was fine—he was fine. Dean caught him up in a tight hug. It was just a dream, not real. Sam had never been on his table, had never seen what—

"Dean?"

Sam's return hug was hesitant, cautious in some way that Dean didn't understand. Whatever. Dean wasn't going to talk about it.

Dean tried to play it off. He chuckled and patted Sam on the back. "Better get a move on. The diner down the street offers double bacon on breakfast orders before seven."

"You all right?" Sam asked as he let go.

"Hungry," Dean said. "Don't want to miss double bacon."

"Right," Sam said. "Sure." Sam stalked over to the bed, Castiel's trench coat out peeked out from under Dean's pillow. Sam pulled it out. "The two of us, we don't do so well with secrets, Dean. You think I haven't noticed—"

Dean yanked the coat away, then took out a couple of his own shirts from under the pillow too. "Don't get all psychoanalytic on me. Pillow was too thin," he muttered.

"It's all right to miss him."

Dean shoved the clothes back into his duffel. "After what he did to you? To the world?"

"That doesn't mean you can't—"

"All he ever brought us was one giant headache to solve," Dean said. "I could forget all about him, if it weren't for that."

"He got you out of hell."

"Too late to make any difference. He should have left me there," Dean yelled.

Sam's teeth clacked audibly as he bit back what he was going to say. He took a deep breath, started over. His eyes were huge in his face. "You don't mean that."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Lay it to rest, Sam. Don't make me lie to you."

"Dean."

For a brief moment, Dean considered telling Sam all of it, the dreams, the phantom pains and smells and sounds. The fact that he just couldn't take it anymore. But then he saw that Sam was staring at his hand as if he wasn't sure Dean was real. He didn't do anything, though. Maybe he didn't want to know if Dean was real. Dean refused to mix him up any more. "I don't need to have a heart-to-heart with my little brother about my feelings. Don't ask me questions you don't want to hear the answers to."

"Swear to me you're not planning anything stupid," Sam said. "Because the last time you started acting like this you tried to say yes to Michael."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "I swear on my mother's grave."

"Dude. Not funny." Sam sighed and gave up. He held his arms out, gesturing at himself. "I'm all ready to go. I'm not the one who just woke up." He looked at Dean. "You should probably change your clothes, brush your teeth."

Dean socked him in the arm. "Thanks for the tip. Now go get us a table. I'll be there in a moment. You can give Bobby a call while you wait. Maybe he'll have some idea of what Crowley might be trying to do with Cas's body."

The distraction worked. Sam broke eye contact. "I don't think he's going to know any more than I do. Not with his library cut in half."

"Since we don't know anyone who can just stroll into hell and take a look around for us, Bobby will have to do. Seriously, go get us a table and order for me. I don't want to miss double bacon."

Dean changed his clothes and drank down his flask to clear the taste of blood from his mouth. He dug through his duffel and pulled out a bottle. He emptied it out in the sink. He hadn't lied to Sam. He hadn't had any plans, but now that he was thinking about it they did know one person who could stroll into hell.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
By the time Dean got to the diner, Sam had already ordered and the food had arrived. Dean slid into the booth across from his brother. "You got your cell phone with you?" he asked, picking up the bacon in front of him. He took a bite, wishing he had time to savor it. It was good.

"Yeah, I already called Sheriff Mills."

"Good," Dean pulled out his bottle and set it on the table, waiting to see what Sam had to say.

"We're in a restaurant," Sam hissed.

"No one cares. Tell me what she said."

"It's bad, Dean. Bobby thinks Castiel's body is a conduit now. They can use it to open up another portal to purgatory right through him, no ritual required. I don't see Crowley being that stupid, though."

"The hell he isn't." That tore it. Dean opened up the bottle and took a long drink, trying not to make a face at the foul taste. "We can't let Crowley get that powerful." He took another long drink, wondering how long it would take. He saw Sam sniff the air, before digging his fork into his hand. He frowned and pushed the fork in harder.

"Not a hallucination," Dean said softly. "You're really smelling it."

Sam ripped the bottle out of his hand, splashing gas over the table. "What did you do?"

Too late. Dean's vision was already dimming. "Just needed to talk to him."

The last thing he heard was the sound of the cell phone beeping as Sam punched in a number. "I need an ambulance …"

  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
"Dean." Dean turned around to find Death sitting at a table in the diner. Dean stood up, leaving his body behind him. The sounds of Sam talking furiously into the phone, and the other diners rushing over to help faded away. He walked over to Death's table. Death smiled, and Dean patted the small of his back to reassure himself that he still had at least one of his knives on. It was doubtful that any of them would have an effect on Death, especially given that they had as much substance as Dean's clothes or Dean himself right now, but it reassured Dean anyway. "You did not fill your end of the bargain."

Dean held up a hand. "I know it may look that way, but—"

"The leviathan are still here, Dean. Still cutting a swath through this little dirt ball."

"We got Cas to the warehouse. Nice eclipse, by the way." Death didn't so much as incline his head in acknowledgement of the praise. Obviously, flattery wasn't going to help. "But uh, it didn't work. The portal opened and they hung on."

"If you're here to ask for another miracle eclipse, I'm afraid I'm fresh out. This universe has rules, Dean. Tamper with them once, and let's just say, there's a lot of paperwork involved. Tamper with them twice, and you might as well let the leviathans eat the hash that you've made of the planet."

"Okay, so no eclipse. I wasn't going to ask about that anyway. Crowley's—"

"I already know all about Crowley. Probably more than you do. He's using your angel friend's body like a giant purgatory sponge. It pulls stuff tainted by purgatory in from both sides of the portal. It would be a great way to send the leviathan back to purgatory, if he weren't using it instead to bring souls out of it."

"Then why haven't you stopped him?"

"Because I'm not a player on this chess board, Dean. It's not my place. My job is to put the pieces away once the game is over. I can't even come to you first. I have to sit around waiting for your little monkey brain to catch up and think of contacting me. Now let's talk terms, I'll give you a way to get into hell, and I'll tell you how to stop Crowley."

"And what do you want from me in exchange?"

Death smiled. Dean patted his knife once again. "You mistake me. Stopping Crowley is what I want from you, and in exchange I'm prepared to offer you another wall."

"You'll fix Sam?"

Death shook his head. "I told you already, Dean. One to a customer. This wall is for you. I can take away your memories of hell. No more nightmares, no more shameful cravings." Dean didn't bother to ask how Death knew.

"Lately, I haven't just been remembering things from down there."

"The visions, the smells of hell can go as well, but not unless you manage to stop Crowley."

"No, this is too easy. What are you really getting out of this?"

"You off of the chess board."

"I have to die." It wasn't a question. Dying held little fear for Dean anymore. He'd welcome it, if he didn't think it would screw Sam up six ways from Sunday.

"You're dead right now. If I thought killing you would get rid of you, Dean, you would have been off of this chess board a long time ago. No, the power I am about to offer you wasn't meant for humans, Dean. You keep using it and it will rip you apart, and when it does it won't just kill you. It will smear your atoms across the dimensions. There will be no return from that."

Dean snorted. "Then after I stop Crowley I won't keep using it." His grin faded as he noted Death's lack of reaction.

"Oh, was I supposed to clap? The ooze had a thought? I'm not a demon, Dean. I can't force your hand. But I think you will keep using it. Because it won't just stop Crowley. It'll stop them."

"You ferry souls to hell, heaven, probably to purgatory, too. Can't you just tuck the leviathans into your saddlebags and ride off with them?"

"That's not how the game is played." Death flicked in and out, and when he returned he was holding the horseman's rings. Dean was somehow not surprised that Death had known where they were all along. "Now, the rings are the lock to Lucifer's cage, but for a soul to pass through the regular part of hell you only need one. Unless you'd rather some very messy consequences, I'd suggest you use War's." He held up the ring. "If you do this, I can't promise you'll survive. Most likely you'll be ripped apart."

"I don't have a choice."

"No, I don't suppose that you do." Death held the ring out to Dean. "On your head be it. But remember, there's always a price. Whatever happens, you won't come back unchanged. Any other stupid questions before I tell you how to stop Crowley?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Do we have to kiss?"

  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
When Death was gone, Dean contemplated for a moment. Sam was going to kill him. But this whole mess was Dean's fault. If he hadn't let his feelings get in the way, he would have stopped Cas before it got to this point. His fault; his responsibility to fix. Death had said just to put the ring on and concentrate on Cas. He'd know where to go after that. Dean hoped he was right. He put the ring on. For a long minute, nothing happened, then pain twisted through Dean's body. He clutched his head. He could see, he could see …

Dean saw. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The world, separated from hell by nothing more than a thin veil, no stronger than tissue paper. It wasn't that he suddenly knew where to go, but more like he became aware of the meaning behind it, a tug he'd felt for a long time, pointing the way to Cas.

With a deep breath, he stepped through the veil.

For all that there was a new king, hell hadn't changed as much as one would think. The stench of sulphur and burning flesh still permeated. Flames still sprang up everywhere, fires to fight back the bitter cold encroaching on hell's borders. He wondered if that cold spread out from the cage, from Lucifer, and spared a thought for Adam. If Castiel, if Death, could breach that cage without freeing Lucifer, then maybe someday Dean would be able to do it. He looked around. He saw no racks, only long lines of souls leading off in every direction, but he didn't fool himself into thinking they weren't there. He looked inside again for that tug and set off after it, relieved when no one tried to stop him, though more than prepared to fight his way through as many people as necessary.

Finally, he came to it, Crowley's sponge, _Cas,_ spread out before him in the air. It was Jimmy's body really, Dean supposed, but it would always be Cas's to him. Dean zoomed toward it, the reek of blood growing stronger with each move closer. He shuddered. He hadn't thought. He'd sworn to himself that he'd do whatever it took not to have to go back here to hell, yet here he was. Why hadn't he thought? It didn't matter. Death was right. Dean did know where to go. The body was surrounded by demons, the floor underneath him shimmering from the effects of the portal. Dean had never wanted to see Cas like this. He swallowed. No one seemed to notice him as he grew closer, reached out his hand. For a second, he thought he saw Cas blink. Dean sucked in a breath. Dean touched Castiel's body and felt his whole being explode with the impact.

  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


When his vision cleared, he saw demons approaching. "You know, Crowley gave us orders to stay clear of you. I think he was too afraid of your little angel friend to let us touch you." The demon laughed. "But I don't see him helping you out any time soon." He stood up and advanced on Dean. "You have no idea how long I've been hoping for the chance to get a little payback from you, Dean Winchester."

Dean planted his feet and held up his hands, twisting the ring on his finger and hoping something would happen.

"Can you see me now?" Dean's eyes widened at the familiar voice. He spun in its direction. "Get down," Cas ordered. Dean ducked just as Cas's angel blade went flashing over him, apparently severing the demon's head from it's body, though Dean knew that wasn't the strict reality of what had happened.

"Cas?" he breathed. "Are you alive?"

"Later," Cas said. "We've got to get out of here." Castiel put his hands on Dean and tugged. Dean didn't know what internal map Cas was following, but Dean knew he had to get back to this body.

"This way," he called, twisting the ring on his hand. He could feel Cas's surprise as Dean began to zoom away and then a moment of hesitation before Cas began to follow after. He could feel … Dean shrugged. He'd figure it out later.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
Dean came back to himself in an ambulance, shirt cut off and a terrible burning in his throat that made him choke. He couldn't breathe. Dimly, he heard the EMT's surprised shout as Castiel popped into existence beside him, reaching out a hand toward Dean's forehead. A breath, and then Dean could breathe again, the pain and difficulty gone, completely healed.

Dean leaped up, pushing past the startled EMT and threw the back door of the ambulance open, jumping out into the street, running away as fast as he could before the driver could rally. Castiel trailed after him. With a screech, Sam, who'd been following the ambulance, pulled up beside them, reaching across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Get in," he said. Dean slid in beside him as Castiel popped into the backseat and they sped away.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sam pulled the car to the side of the road and slugged Dean as hard as he could given the tight confines of the interior. He looked in the rear view mirror. "Cas," he said.

"Sam," Castiel replied gravely.

"Could you put some clothes on?"

"I have none," Cas said. "They didn't survive the journey." Dean pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the backseat. Not turning around was the hardest thing he'd done in awhile.

Without saying another word, Sam put the car back into drive and made for the house they'd be staying in.  
It could have gone worse, Dean thought.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
Once they were safely inside, Dean could feel the weight of his brother's gaze on him, wanting answers. Dean didn't know where to start. "I'm sorry," he said finally, forcing himself to turn his own eyes from Castiel, standing next to him quietly, whole and alive.

"Don't even," Sam said. "There are not enough apologies in the world. Just tell me what's going on." Sam began to rifle through Dean's duffel pulling out underwear, socks and pants. For Cas, Dean thought.

Dean explained about his deal with Death. Not all of it, not the dying part. Just what had happened and how Death believed that War's ring could be used against the Leviathan.

"Used how?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, maybe it will make them fight each other."

"Dean, he gave you the means to take your soul to hell. I don't think this is someone who has your best interest at heart." Sam crossed his arms again as he eyed War's ring on Dean's finger. "I don't think this is someone we should trust." Dean nodded, but he was only half paying attention to Sam's lecture. He watched Castiel getting dressed, thinking the clothes looked strange on him, that Cas himself looked uncomfortable. There had to be somewhere in town he could get real Cas clothes.

"—Cas," he heard Sam say. Dean's attention snapped back. "What about Cas?" Sam asked quietly, not that there was any hope of Castiel not hearing him.

"You doing okay, Cas?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine."

"He's fine," Dean repeated.

"You know that's not what I meant," Sam said.

Dean found another bottle and took a long drink. Sam's face was screwed up in annoyance. "It's gasoline-free," Dean assured. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean looked away. He couldn't see Castiel, but he could feel his eyes on him and knew Castiel was giving him the same look as Sam. Or as close to it as he could come. "I know," Dean said to Sam finally. "Do you want him to go?"

Sam shook his head. "No, he should stay where we can keep an eye on him. Not that we could do anything if he—"

"—declares himself God and tries to rule the planet?"

"I have no intention of—"

"We know, Cas. It's just not that easy sometimes." Sam started packing. "We need to get out of here before the wrong people hear about your ambulance ride and come investigate." He handed Cas the car keys. "Can you wait in the car?"

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. "He doesn't have to stay with us," he said.

"I know what he means to you." Dean made a move to protest. Sam zipped up Dean's duffel and shoved it at his stomach, cutting him off. "He was my friend, too. It's not that. You don't think when he's around." Sam brushed his fingers over the ring Dean wore.

Dean looked down at his hands. "This will work," he said.

"I know you believe that," Sam said. "But Dean, I've dealt with power before. It never ends well."

Maybe Sam was right or maybe Dean just didn't have time to think when Cas was around. Always needing to react to the latest problem, the latest threat. But this ring was a weapon. If there was one thing John had taught Dean that had stuck the way his father wanted it to it was how to fight.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
Dean didn't know all the ring could do, and he wasn't in a hurry to just guess when one wrong twist could mean something like River Pass all over again. Castiel was avoiding heaven for reasons he wouldn't share, and Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know. That left him without a way to track the leviathan either other than manual searching. But all Dean had to do was put the ring on and think of the leviathan, and he would be led to one. If sometimes there was a little side-effect like pain or strange symbols ripping open, well it was a small price to pay.

And once Dean led them there, all Cas had to do was touch them and they disappeared. Cas swore they weren't inside of him, and Dean believed it. Maybe he shouldn't, but Dean didn't have much left to believe in anyway. Maybe because of the other thing he didn't like to think about. How even though the ring guided him to the leviathan (or to his enemies), he didn't feel that tug that he'd felt when he was searching for Cas, an awareness that hadn't gone away.

But that was another thing that could wait until later. For now, they had a train to catch.

"I do not think this is a good idea. Someone will recognize me. I was just here three months ago performing miracles. I—"

"That's really not something you want to bring up around me just yet, Cas."

"I have apologized—"

"Yeah, about five hundred more of those, and I might start to think about forgiving you. This is where the leviathan is. I can feel it." Dean softened and began straightening Castiel's tie. "Come on, you look completely different." He gave Cas's chest a little pat. "You've got that whole naive child thing back that you used to have."

"Is that how you think of me? As a small human?"

Dean ran his hand gently over Cas's shoulder, smoothing out his jacket. "Not always," he said.

Castiel ran his hand over the cut that had opened on Dean's face when he'd led them to the train. It sealed under his fingers. "I wanted to leave you out of this," he said. "I wanted you to have Lisa and Ben and a chance to be happy. Instead you're more in than ever."

Dean swallowed hard. "I should have realized earlier—"

"I didn't let you realize. I'm not actually a child, Dean. I'm older than your entire race." He pushed up Dean's shirt, revealing more wounds on his stomach. "When I was in hell, bound by Crowley, I couldn't move, couldn't fight. It hurt so much. I was … despondent. But I would think of you and sometimes it was if I was with you, as if I could see and hear what you were seeing and hearing." He paused. "I know what Death said to you."

Dean thought of the phantom pains and smells of hell. Oh, Death had been very clever indeed telling him it would stop if he stopped Crowley. "How?" Dean croaked.

Castiel tapped Dean's sleeve over the handprint scar. "When I brought you out of hell, I had to hold onto your soul so tightly. I don't think I only scarred you," he said. "I think some of my grace got mixed into your soul. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd traveled to hell in the normal way, but the portal Crowley used to transport me. It tried to transport all of me, I think. It made a link between us." He smoothed his hand over Dean's stomach. "It's getting harder to heal you," he said. "It's like you're coming apart at the seams. I'll find a way to get to the leviathan. Please. I would keep you in this world. I would—"

Dean gave him one final pat and stepped back. "Your timing sucks, Cas. It always has."

They walked into the subway tunnel. There were too many bodies for Dean to pick out which one belonged to the leviathan. He felt surrounded. A hand fell on his shoulder and turned to see a leviathan grinning at him. "We're not supposed to let anyone see this," it said. "I guess we'll just have to eat _everyone._ " His mouth gaped wide as he pulled Dean toward him.

Cas surged forward, laying hands on the leviathan, sucking it into him even as it struggled and snapped to get away. "I fought all of hell to bring him out once, and you can't have him."

"Thanks," Dean started to say as it disappeared, but then he realized the awareness wasn't going away. We, the leviathan had said. Dean spun around, looking and spotted one of them running onto the train. The doors slid shut. They'd never catch. He started to twist the ring on his finger, and gasped as every nerve of his body went suddenly numb. Cas caught him as he lost as footing, and Dean watched the blood dripping down. He knew it was coming from him, but he couldn't feel it, could only try to breathe through lungs that didn't seem to exist.

"You have to let it go, Dean. This is my mistake to fix." Castiel pressed both his hands onto Dean, pouring something in that let him breathe. He could hear a wind howling as deep cuts opened up on his arms.

"We don't have another plan. This may be our only chance to get rid of those SOBs." The storm was swirling all around, filling Dean's ears with an awful mourning moan echoed in his memories. He could almost see it.

"Sometimes the only way to win is to refuse to fight. You know this! You and Sam showed me that."

"This isn't the same thing, Cas. This isn't—" The handprint on his arm was burning like ice, and Dean knew that the only thing holding him together was the energy Cas was channeling toward him. It wouldn't last forever. He felt a cut open up on his face.

"It is!" He felt Cas pulling on him, trying to pry the ring off. "Dean, please! You aren't responsible for all the world."

But I am, Dean wanted to say. I'm the only one. But that wasn't true, was it? They'd all of them made mistakes. Dean shouldn't trust Castiel, but he did. That's why they called them leaps of faith, because they happened without logic, without reason. Just instinct and love. Dean Winchester had always trusted his gut. He looked into Cas's eyes and saw emotion there. Emotions that angels didn't feel, weren't supposed to feel. Cas had taken a leap of faith once. Dean could.

Dean pulled off the ring.

The storm died as quickly as it had stirred and all was quiet. Dean turned to Castiel, opened his mouth to speak and promptly slid to the floor as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.  


  
[ ](http://caz2y5.livejournal.com/51453.html)  


  
When Dean awoke, he was laying on Sheriff Mills's couch. Sam was gently snoring on the floor beside him. Castiel was nowhere to be seen. "Sam? Sam!" Dean said, nudging his brother with his foot. Sam opened a bleary eye at him and glared. "What?"

"Where's Cas?" Sam's lips twitched. "What?"

"Bobby owes me five bucks. He bet your first question would be 'what happened?'."

"Who wins the bet over how long it takes me to kill your stalling ass?"

"Calm down. He went to get—"

"You're awake," Castiel said. He stood in the center of the room holding a Biggerson's pie box.

Dean leapt off the bed. "You brought pie? Cas, I could kiss you."

"You could," Castiel said.

Sam groaned and pulled a blanket over his head.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for violence, torture, alcohol use, suicidal thoughts, depression and one (temporary) suicide.


End file.
